


(Un)broken

by Drapixione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dark, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 02:11:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13560489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drapixione/pseuds/Drapixione
Summary: The initial struggle for freedom is such a heart-crushing blur to Hermione. There are snatchers and Death Eaters and Malfoys and a screaming Bellatrix... and it’s so cold.





	(Un)broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lyra (Lyra_87)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyra_87/gifts), [ZombieliciousXIII](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieliciousXIII/gifts).



Malfoy Manor is cold – the kind of cold that creeps in, and crunches at your bones. It leaves absolutely no doubt that Voldemort had left his mark here, so to speak. The manor is so large, with so many hidden passageways and chambers, no doubt. Hermione shivers at the thought that there might be plenty of poor souls captured and trapped within these walls; souls who they are now seemingly unable to save, as they are now part of them. Captured and trapped. 

The initial struggle for freedom is such a heart-crushing blur to Hermione. There are snatchers and Death Eaters and Malfoys and a screaming Bellatrix... and it’s so cold. 

Hermione has no idea where Harry and Ron had been taken to, after Bellatrix had demanded a little private “girl-to-girl” conversation time with Hermione. This basically consists of Bellatrix using a combination of muttered dark curses Hermione can’t quite catch and a blade that cuts through her like ice to her very soul. 

Bellatrix leaves Hermione alone for indeterminate periods of time in-between this brand of torture, and Hermione isn’t sure which is worse. Being left alone to her own thoughts, feeling absolutely drained, only leads to Hermione blaming herself for the entire ordeal. She knows she should have better prevented them being caught. She should have done a better job of concealing Harry from their captors. She should have been quick enough to fight Bellatrix off before she’d been rendered too weak by her blade and muttered curses. She should have been brave enough to use some of the dark magic she’s familiar with, from years of incessant reading, to save her friends. 

_‘Some Gryffindor.’_

“Come on, Draco,” Bellatrix growls in her voice that grates on every single nerve Hermione isn’t actually too hopeful she even possesses anymore, right outside the door to the room Hermione lies practically paralysed in. 

“Aunt Bella,” Draco tries to protest, but is cut off when the door suddenly slams open, with Draco stumbling in, followed very closely by his psychotic aunt.

“This one doesn’t seem to respond very well to girl talk,” Bellatrix grins, ignoring her nephew. “Too used to the company of boys, I bet,” she grins.

Hermione keeps her gaze on the pair, really has no choice in the matter. She feels the tears bursting from inside her exhausted body, but her body is too drained to release them. She’s forced to feel their burning sting, unable to shed them. 

“Mudbloods are worth nothing more than being slaves to our needs and pleasures, Draco,” Bellatrix sighs dramatically, rushing forward to grip Hermione’s arm, displaying the carved insult on her pale skin to her nephew. “It’s been too long since I’ve given you a toy, Draco. Don’t you agree, love?”

Hermione somehow manages _not_ to vomit. It’s probably due to the fact that she hasn’t eaten in a while.

\----

Draco manhandles Hermione into the closest bathroom, large and extravagant, like everything else in the manor. He casts locking and silencing charms on the door, before drawing Hermione a jasmine and lavender scented bath.

It makes sense that the blond would want her to wash her mudblood germs off before he considers touching her. Hermione cannot even bring herself to be upset by the thought, too grateful for the opportunity to enjoy a hot bath – something she hasn’t been able to do in a very long time, since they went on the run to hunt for horcruxes. 

“You can get in,” Draco murmurs, gesturing towards the filling bathtub.

He turns away to a marble counter on the other side of the bathroom, leaning against it heavily, head bowed. 

Hermione doesn’t wait to be told twice, waving off a last sliver of dignity in her possession as she discards her dirty clothes, heedless of Draco’s presence in the room. The water feels amazing on her abused and neglected body, and the scents from the foams and oils actually do have somewhat of a calming effect. 

She notices Draco appears to be hyperventilating, a look she automatically identifies as disgust distorting his fair features.

“It’s okay,” Hermione says lightly. “‘Mudblood’ isn’t actually a germ you can catch, Malfoy.” 

Draco’s head snaps up at her biting remark, gaze shooting to where he can see her reflected in the large mirror in front of him.

“What?!” he exclaims.

“You don’t need to worry,” Hermione states, sounding calmer than she even remembers ever feeling at this particular point. “Dragging me into a bath is nice, and all,” she continues, “but you don’t have to be quite so worried about me dirtying your delicately flawless self up.” 

He turns around at her words, looking paler than is even normal for him.

“Granger,” he starts, then backtracks. “Hermione, I don’t want to hurt you,” he rushes out, running his hands through his light hair. “Merlin.”

“I’m just fulfilling my obligations as a good little mudblood,” she murmurs, holding her arm out to Draco to once again see the dirty word carved there. 

“I don’t want to rape you,” Draco snaps, and tears finally burst free, streaming Hermione’s face.

“Pity,” she huffs bitterly. “I’ve read studies done by muggles,” she continues. “Rapists tend to prefer virgins. The power trip trumps their lack of experience and technique, I guess,” she forces herself to meet his eyes, expression somehow still blank, even as her face is flooded with tears. “Even if it is only some worthless little mudblood slave.”

“Granger,” Draco breathes, unable to form any more words.

“I guess there’s little harm in you knowing now that I haven’t even had my first kiss yet,” she says softly, still crying expressionlessly, seemingly unable to stop. “I kind of hoped Ron or Harry would take it, I guess,” she chuckles humourlessly. “But to them I’m just a bloke with breasts.” 

“Hermione,” Draco says gently, stepping closer to where she’s sitting in the bathtub, crouching down beside it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, softly cupping her cheek.

She’s still crying as he’s leaning in to place a light kiss to her lips. She doesn’t fight him.

\----

Draco paces restlessly in his room. He has no idea how to feel right now, let alone what the hell he’s supposed to _do_. 

His psychotic aunt just gave him a fucking _sex toy_ , for Merlin’s sake, like she’s not an actual person. He knows that, to Bellatrix, Hermione Granger really _isn’t_ actually a person, but Draco has never truly shared these vile opinions regarding muggle-born witches and wizards (even muggles themselves), regardless of how ferociously it had been entrenched into his upbringing. 

Thinking of his upbringing makes his heart beat even more frantically in his chest, as he continues his pacing. He’s survived some things (bearing their scars) he really doesn’t want to think about, let alone subject anyone else to.

Draco especially doesn’t want to drag someone as pure and kind as Hermione Granger into the mess that is his life. 

_‘You’re such an idiot,’_ he scolds himself. 

He can’t believe he’d gone and bloody-well _kissed_ Hermione. It was such a selfish move on his part, now that he reflects upon the act. He’s not sure what had possessed him; she’d just been saying all those things, and sounded so sad about never having been kissed (and Draco _knows_ she’d been terrified, because how can she _not_ be?!), and action had just taken over. 

He thinks about how his first kiss had been stolen from him when he was _much_ too small to even understand the concept, and has to stop himself from vomiting at the thought that he’d just done the very same _damn_ thing. 

Sure, Hermione is much older than he had been, but she is no less vulnerable in her current position. 

A knock on his door, followed by his mother peeking inside, puts his panic and self-hatred on hold. 

Narcissa takes one look at Draco, before stepping inside with a heavy sigh.

“My poor baby,” she murmurs, closing the door behind her, stepping up to Draco, and pulling him into her arms. 

“I can’t do this, Mum,” Draco sobs shamelessly into his mother’s embrace. 

The informal way in which he is able to interact with her in private is usually a great comfort to him, and this instance is no exception. 

“We’ll feed and clothe her,” Narcissa says soothingly. “Let’s start there, okay, baby?” 

She hasn’t called him ‘baby’ in quite a while. It warms his heart that she so readily knows that he needs the small comfort. 

\----

Hermione sits on the edge of the bed in the room she’d been kept in ever since shortly after their arrival at the manor. She’s wearing nothing but a soft white towel; her skin and hair having been magically dried, and Draco having disappeared with the dirty clothes she’d been wearing. She has her arms wrapped tightly around her body, not quite receiving sufficient comfort and protection from the towel cladding her naked form. 

Try as she might, Hermione doesn’t appear to be able to stop her tears now that they’ve started to fall. 

_‘Damn Draco.’_

It’s such a little thing, but he had still virtually stolen her first kiss. 

She damns herself right along with him, because the kiss was good. It was soft and quick, and there had been nothing particularly glamorous about it, but Draco had been so gentle about it. 

_‘Why did he have to be so gentle with me now?’_ Hermione sobs harder. _‘Doesn’t he care that it will make it so much harder on me when he starts...forcing himself on me?’_

Hermione’s thoughts are disrupted when the door to the room suddenly opens, revealing Narcissa, closely followed by Draco. Narcissa is carrying some clothes on top of another blanket.

“I thought you might want to wear something clean,” Narcissa holds the light grey nightdress out to Hermione.

“Thank you,” Hermione mutters, accepting the clothing offered to her.

Hermione pulls the dress over her head over the towel, attempting to protect what’s left of her modesty and dignity, removing the towel from underneath the delicate fabric. 

“Here’s also an extra blanket,” Narcissa says awkwardly. “In case you get cold.” 

Hermione resists the urge to snort bitterly. The manor is bloody bone-crushingly freezing, and she is sure Narcissa knows this all too well. She doubts wholeheartedly that a single blanket will do anything to remedy this.

“Thank you,” she repeats instead, looking down at the fabric now covering her skin – It’s soft and delicate, undoubtedly very expensive.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Narcissa offers, exiting the room, closing the door behind her. 

“Here,” Draco offers, and Hermione only now notices the tray of food he’s carrying. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Hermione says, turning to hang the towel over a nearby chair, even as she curses her traitorous stomach for growling.

“Hermione,” Draco sighs, and hearing her first name coming from him is still a strange sensation. “Of course I need to feed you.”

“I’m not a bloody guest,” Hermione snaps as she turns back around to face him. “I’m a captive, and now I’m apparently a pending sex slave,” she continues. “I’d rather not eat anything, and die quicker, if that’s going to be the case.”

“Hermione,” Draco says again, setting the tray down on the bedside nightstand, approaching her. “As someone who’s been subjected and exposed to sick and twisted unwanted sexual interactions since I was four years old, I have no intention of raping you, trust me.”

Hermione stares at him wordlessly for a few moments, like all the fight has left her body as suddenly as it had appeared.

“If you’re still worried about having to touch a dirty mudblood-” she says, letting her guard back up.

“FOR MERLIN’S SAKE!” Draco exclaims, successfully cutting her off before she can finish her accusation. “I don’t give half a damn about that,” he continues, no longer screaming, but still forceful. “It doesn’t matter that your parents are muggles, Hermione, I just don’t want to fucking rape you, okay?!”

He appears a little out of breath after his exclamation, and Hermione gapes at him for a moment before opening her mouth to protest.

Before any words can form in her mouth, though, Draco cuts her off with another kiss – this one less gentle. It’s over rather quickly, and then Draco storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving Hermione alone with a frantically beating heart. 

\----

Draco is filled with panic and dread. He still doesn’t know how to handle Hermione. The thought of seeing her as a “sex slave” makes him sick to his stomach. She’s a human being, young and vulnerable. He refuses to become that which he’s feared all his life.

_“Please, no,” four year old Draco pleads. “I want my mommy.”_

_“Your mommy isn’t home right now,” Bellatrix says in a faux sympathetic and gentle tone. “Aunty Bella has to watch you tonight.”_

Draco needs to be strong. He knows he does. He just wishes he could stop hyperventilating long enough to go check on Hermione.

_“One day,” Bellatrix assures him, “you’ll need to make women very happy.”_

_Draco whimpers, but doesn’t dare respond._

Draco hides himself in one of the lesser used bathrooms, and allows his tears to fall freely. He can’t believe he’d crossed the line with Hermione. He’d done that which he’d always promised himself he’d never do to another person. Sure, it was just kissing...for now. He’s not sure he’ll have much say over what transpires further. 

_“How dare you disrespect your elders?” Belaltrix demands. “You ungrateful little brat!”_

_She slaps Draco so hard across his cheek, that he hits his head on the kitchen cabinet, crumbling into a little blond heap on the floor._

_“You don’t say no to your aunt,” she hisses, unbuttoning Draco’s trousers._

_Draco isn’t able to stop her._

“Pull yourself together,” Draco tells his reflection in the mirror. 

Hermione needs him to be strong. By Merlin, he is going to do his bloody best. 

\----

Even in the dim light of the basement, where Potter and Weasley are held, Draco can see that they basically look like…well, shit, to be honest. 

“This isn’t much, but I bet you’re starving,” he says apologetically, holding out the tray of food he’d secretly brought for the pair. 

“Thank you,” Potter says politely, taking the tray from Draco. 

“You didn’t poison it, did you?” Weasley grunts, scowl never leaving his face. 

“Ron,” Potter scolds, but his voice doesn’t hold much authority. 

“Fine,” Weasley sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “What is it?” 

It’s about as much of a _thank you_ as Draco can expect, he reckons. 

\----

Hermione is curled up on her side, her back facing the door to the room she’s trapped in. She’s not sleeping. She can’t. 

“I’ve brought supper,” Draco suddenly says behind her.

She hadn’t even really registered him entering the room. She wants to protest that she’s not hungry, that her stomach protests even the idea of food at the moment, but the words won’t form, and she can’t bring herself to utter them. 

“I have a letter for you from Potter and Weasley,” Draco adds when Hermione doesn’t reply, or even acknowledge him. 

“Are they okay?” Hermione asks quietly, still not making a move to face the blond. 

“I sneak them food,” Draco murmurs, moving around the bed to crouch down beside Hermione, grey eyes piercing. 

It doesn’t really answer Hermione’s question, but something inside her hurts a little less at the possibility of her friends being alive and relatively okay. She doesn’t respond, though.

“Hermione,” Draco starts, and Hermione sighs.

“Can you please stop being nice, Malfoy?” Hermione pleads quietly. “If you’re going to use me, please get it over with.”

“I told you I-” Draco starts, but Hermione cuts him off, finally meeting his eyes.

“I know you say you don’t want to,” she says, “and that’s all good and well, but I think we both know that Bellatrix won’t be very lenient for very long. She’ll force you, either way,” she chokes out, tears stinging her eyes again. “Wouldn’t you want to have some semblance of control over the situation?”

“Hermione,” Draco hedges again. 

“Please, Draco,” Hermione pleads, tears falling freely now. “Can we please get it over with, before...” she trails off, heaving a heavy sigh. “Before you have no choice in hurting me,” she finally finishes.

Draco wordlessly leans in to wipe the tears from Hermione’s cheeks, hands gentle on her face.

“Please,” she begs again, gripping one of the hands he has on her cheeks.

“I really don’t want to hurt you,” he chokes out, tears stinging his own eyes. 

“You can be gentle,” Hermione offers quietly, the following silence sounding eerily like _‘if you want’_. 

“I’m really sorry, Hermione,” Draco says barely above a whisper. “I’ll take it slow,” he adds. “And you tell me the second I need to stop.”

“Sure,” Hermione sighs. “While you still have a choice.”

Draco doesn’t answer her, just leans in to kiss her – something that is quickly becoming familiar. Hermione responds to the kiss, as prepared for what’s about to happen as can be expected, when Draco pulls away from the kiss, expression unreadable. 

“I’ll leave you to your supper and letter,” he says softly, getting up and leaving a perplexed Hermione behind.

\---- 

Hermione dozes in and out of fitful sleep, waking more fully when she hears the door opening behind her turned back, followed by quiet footsteps. She bets it’s Malfoy, but she ignores whoever it is, doesn’t turn around. Hopefully if she pretends to be asleep, whoever just entered the room will leave her in peace again.

“Draco,” Bellatrix’s voice suddenly cuts through the silence in the room, following the first newcomer, and confirming his assumed identity. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, Aunt Bella,” Draco replies in a much softer tone.

“You know, Draco,” Bellatrix sighs dramatically. “I’m beginning to think that you’re ungrateful.”

Unable to stop herself, Hermione stiffens from her position on the bed, back still turned to the door and her uninvited room-guests. She prays neither of the two noticed her startled gasp before she swallowed it.

“Of course not, Aunt Bella,” Draco defends. “Not at all.”

He really doesn’t sound convincing, or even remotely confident. He sounds like a scared little boy, and the thought shoots an unpleasant swoop through Hermione’s mostly empty stomach. 

“Then show me that you like your new toy,” Bellatrix grits out slowly, like she’s struggling to hold on to her last patience, “and play with it.” 

These words are followed by a shuffling sound, and a quick whimper from Draco. If Hermione wasn’t afraid to turn around and face her captors before, she certainly is petrified now.

“Yes, Aunt Bella,” Draco chokes out, sounding even more small and terrified. 

In a matter of mere moments, Hermione finds herself shoved over onto her back, Draco crawling on top of her. Even more terrifying than this, is the blade Bellatrix is holding very casually to Draco’s throat.

“I’m so sorry,” Draco mouths, no sound leaving his lips.

There are actual tears in his eyes, and Hermione is fighting every impulse she has to pass out. 

Draco presses light open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, and down her neck. It’s presumably to calm her down – to calm them both down. It’s only partially successful. The gentle touches from Draco is reassuring, to a degree, but Bellatrix’s blade so close to Draco’s throat, accompanied by her heavy breathing, is doing a pretty marvellous job of undoing that. 

Hermione focuses on her own breathing when Draco moves down her body, discarding the blankets which are covering her as he goes, to lift up the nightdress she’s wearing. His hands are gentle, but they are still roaming previously unmarked territory, and Hermione keeps her eyes firmly shut, ignoring the thought that he seems more skilled and experienced than she can possibly be comfortable with.

“It’s just us,” Draco murmurs barely above a breath, and Hermione tries very hard to block out anything but the feeling of him touching her all over.

\----

Draco waits until he’s sure Hermione’s asleep (by monitoring the badly-hushed sounds of her crying), before sneaking a quick peek inside the room. She’s definitely sleeping, by some miracle. 

He has to force himself to keep breathing. The image of what had happened earlier on the very bed Hermione’s sleeping on won’t stop playing over and over in his mind. 

He’d tried so hard to be gentle, and he hopes to Merlin that he was even remotely successful. 

Deciding that he’s unable to deal with this right now, he closes the door quietly behind him.

\---- 

Hermione wakes up to the door closing behind her, back once again turned to said door. She quickly turns, mind suddenly flooded with too many thoughts to process at once, setting her heart racing frantically. 

No one is in the room, though. 

Hermione closes her eyes, breathes in deeply, and tries to will her heart rate to slow down. Tears immediately start stinging her eyes, and she very nearly forgets to exhale her last deep breath. 

Reality hurts. 

The reality is that she is not a virgin anymore. She is definitely not a virgin, and in the end she didn’t get to have a say in the matter. She’s not hurt, and it doesn’t feel like it, but... It’s virtually impossible to accept the cold hard fact that she’d been raped, albeit not violently – at all. A weird sort of logic insists that Dra-, that _Malfoy_ had been raped as well. Is it even possible that Bellatrix had raped them both?

No. No, she- She had asked Draco to help her, to give them both some control. He hadn’t listened. He didn’t help her out of this mess. He’d let the rape happen...

And Hermione can’t stop thinking the bloody word _rape_ , and she can’t stop sobbing loudly and hysterically, and she... She can’t breathe. 

“Hermione,” she thinks she vaguely hears somewhere in the blurry distance, but she can’t focus on it. 

Hermione feels like she’s choking, and she knows she’s about to die, and she really wishes she were at all able to cry out for help. 

“Hermione,” she hears again through the fog that seems to surround her, and she wants to reply that, yes, she can hear whoever is calling to her, and she really needs their help.

“Hermione,” the voice is growing clearer.

Hermione still has no idea who’s out there, but she becomes vaguely aware of someone wrapped around her. It’s meant to be comfort, Hermione is sure. It still causes her to sob harder. 

“Hermione,” the voice is warm. Female. Gentle. A mother.

Hermione can feel herself tune more back into her body. She’s becoming more aware of the maternal presence accompanying the voice, and she’s grateful _someone_ ’s mother is here to help her, even though she desperately longs for her own. 

“Hermione,” Narcissa says gently, and her one hand is stroking Hermione’s hair, while the other is pressing Hermione close to her body by the small of her back. “Hermione,” she repeats. “Breathe with me. Come on,” she urges. “Feel my breathing. Come on, Hermione.”

With some effort, Hermione manages to match Narcissa’s breathing, which allows her heart rate to decrease. 

“Shh,” Narcissa soothes, holding Hermione tighter in her motherly embrace. “Just keep breathing.” 

Hermione cries herself out into Narcissa’s chest, but she breathes, clinging to Narcissa all the while. 

“Narcissa,” she manages.

“I know,” Narcissa says gently, still soothing Hermione, still holding her close. 

In that moment, Hermione is hit with the realisation that she believes Narcissa really does know. 

\---- 

Hermione startles out of a nightmare; she was running away from a shapeless, faceless figure... She has no idea if she managed to escape, in the end. 

How had she managed to wake up sweating, while still feeling cold to the bone?

More to the point, how in the world had she managed to fall asleep? She only vaguely recalls snuggling into Narcissa, but... No one is in the bed – or the room, for that matter – with Hermione. 

Did she imagine it?

Hermione feels like she’s losing her mind.

\---- 

“Thank you,” Potter says, accepting the food.

The words are reluctantly echoed by Weasley, and he tucks in with even more gusto than Potter.

“I gave her your letter,” Draco says, instead of accepting their thanks. He forgoes using her name, not sure if it’s her first or last name he’ll be using in front of these two best friends of hers; and he definitely doesn’t want to consider their reactions to either option. 

“Thank you,” Potter says again, suddenly appearing awkward. 

“Did she say anything?” Weasley frowns sceptically. 

“No, I let her read it in peace,” Draco replies, guilt over the whole situation eating away at him. 

“Okay, then,” Weasley says grumpily, resuming his eating. 

“Thank you,” Potter repeats, yet again. 

_‘Enough is enough,’_ Draco decides. 

The very least Hermione, Potter and Weasley deserve in this messed up situation is to see each other again. 

\----

Hermione sits wrapped up in all the blankets that had been given to her, legs pulled up to her chest. She’s shivering, rocking herself lightly as her teeth clatter. She’d cry, but she doubts her body is physically capable of producing tears right now. 

The door creaks open, and Hermione doesn’t waste what little strength she has left to lift her head in the direction of the uninvited guest. 

“Hermione?” Malfoy says gently.

Hermione doesn’t respond. 

“Hermione, are you okay?” 

Hermione still doesn’t respond, but she lifts her gaze to Malfoy now.

“I can take you to see Potter and Weasley, if you’re up for it?”

Hermione closes her eyes, inhaling deeply. Wordlessly, she nods, figuring it might do her some good to see her friends. She’s not sure how to face them right now, horrified that they’d... _know_. She really misses them, though. 

Malfoy helps her up from the little nest she’d burrowed herself in on the bed, gently laying her blankets back down neatly. Hermione wishes he wouldn’t do little things like _making her bed_ , but she doesn’t say anything. She just wraps her arms back tightly around herself, hugging herself closely in a vain attempt to cease her incessant shivering. 

“Here,” Malfoy murmurs, summoning a pair of dark grey robes from the closet, holding it out to Hermione. “May I?” he asks, he gestures in a manner which supposedly silently asks her permission for him to help dress her in it. 

Wordlessly, Hermione nods, cooperatively holding her arms out one after the other to slip them into the sleeves of Narcissa’s robes. It immediately awards her a sense of warmth and comfort, wearing them. It’s still unimaginably cold, of course, but she has her shivering a little more under control now, and she doesn’t feel so very alone anymore.

“Ready to go?” Malfoy asks, stepping back from Hermione, like he is able to really sense the invisible boundaries around her. 

At her nod of confirmation, Malfoy leads her out of the room. He leads her down hallways and down many stairs, checking over his shoulder every few moments. It’s almost like Malfoy is afraid in his own home.

They finally stop in front of a closed door.

“Are they in here?” Hermione asks, wincing slightly at the way her voice sounds.

“Yeah,” Malfoy confirms, jaw set, expression carefully blank. 

The fear that Harry and Ron will just know that Hermione’s virtue had been compromised returns to the forefront of her mind. When they realise she’d lost her innocence at the hand of Malfoy, they won’t wait long enough to understand that he’d been a victim in the matter too; they’d simply...end him. 

“Maybe I should go in alone,” her voice sounds small, but she thinks that Malfoy understands her reasoning. 

Hermione isn’t really sure why she’s trying to protect the blond; still mostly blaming him for not having put up more of a fight to protect her, even after she’d begged him. What she does know, is that she really doesn’t want to see Malfoy die at the hands of her two best friends – especially not over _her_. 

He doesn’t respond, simply nodding at her request, opening the door to allow her inside.

“I’ll be right out here,” he finally says, voice sounding flat.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

\---- 

“’Mione?” Harry says uncertainly upon Hermione’s unexpected entrance. 

Hermione is suddenly hit with the realisation that she really doesn’t want to think about who or what the pair had come to expect in however long time they’ve been hostages at Malfoy Manor.

By the looks of them, Malfoy hadn’t lied about feeding them, which she should be grateful for. They still look horrible, though, which causes her heart to clench. 

“Harry,” she chokes out, tears beginning to fall at the sight of them, for so many different reasons. “Ron.”

“You’re okay,” Harry rushes forward, wrapping her into a tight hug. 

“Harry,” Hermione repeats, clinging to Harry with strength she didn’t know she possessed anymore. 

“Thank Merlin,” Ron sighs in relief, his hand resting lightly on Hermione’s back while Harry and Hermione hug it out. 

“Ron,” Hermione breathes, trading Harry’s embrace for her ginger friend’s. 

“We were worried sick about you, girl,” Ron breathes into her hair, burying a light kiss there.

Those words, accompanied by the small gesture, have a fresh wave of tears flooding down Hermione’s face. As good as it feels to be considered a girl by her friend; her heart is ripped into tiny shards that it took this long to happen. That it’s too late.

“Blimey, Hermione,” Harry says sympathetically at her reaction, holding her soaked cheek in his palm. “What have they _done_ to you?” he asks gently. 

Hermione knows they don’t actually know what she’d had to endure, but she’s hit with an overwhelming rush of emotion that her friends care so much. For a moment, she realises, she’d began to doubt it – along with everything else in her life.

Hermione shakes her head, surprising all of them by releasing a light chuckle, causing her to cry even harder. 

“I missed you both,” she finally manages, not prepared to say any more. 

“Never stopped thinking about you,” Harry assures her, surprising her with a quick kiss to her forehead. 

She knows he means that both Ron and he have been spending their time here wishing they could know whether all their loved ones are okay, outside of their little confined space. It still means a lot to her that she’s included in that ‘loved ones’ category, especially since she’d been feeling utterly unloved and alone as of late. 

“I really hate to break up this reunion,” Malfoy suddenly appears in the (once again, open) door, “but you really need to follow me and act quickly, if you want to get out of here.” 

“What?” Ron asks.

“They finally decided to summon the Dark Lord,” Draco snaps. “They’re getting their story straight to do just that right now,” he adds. “I don’t think there is much time.” 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks, naturally immediately springing to action.

Hermione and Ron share a quick, confused look at Harry’s reaction. She finds some comfort in the realisation that Ron appears to be at least somewhat as panicked as she feels herself, even though Harry is displaying a cool, collected exterior. 

\---- 

Dobby appears as if from nowhere. He is his usual overly helpful self, of course. He hands the trio Hermione’s enchanted bag, which he assures them he’d filled with more supplies. Evidently, now that he’s a free elf, wearing a pair of shoes a few sizes too large for him, he has no moral qualms over stealing from the Malfoys’ kitchen. 

“You must be quick,” he says, smiling brightly at them all. “Dobby has heard terrible things.” 

His eyes are large and earnest, and just the sight of him is enough to brighten anyone’s day.

“Thank you, Dobby,” Draco says gently, though his expression is still nothing but utterly serious. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he adds to Hermione, Ron and Harry. “Dobby can Apparate in and out of here, since he’s a house elf, and the wards don’t specifically prohibit it.” 

“Brilliant,” Harry says. “Will side-along Apparition be possible?”

“Well,” Draco heaves a small sigh. “There’s one way to find out.”

Hermione doesn’t feel entirely reassured. The fact that she has no ideas of her own isn’t helping matters at all. 

“You better go,” Draco says urgently. “Make sure it’s far away, and don’t stay in one place for too long.” 

The realisation that they’re planning on leaving without Malfoy hits Hermione hard and unexpectedly. 

In the next moment a bunch of Death Eaters are storming towards them, evidently having already settled their story. 

“Draco,” Bellatrix screeches, “you filthy, ungrateful little traitor!” 

She flings her blade through the air, aiming right at Draco. Dobby intervenes quickly, though, using his elven magic to cause the blade to change course, hitting Bellatrix right in the chest. 

The Death Eaters all attack, but Harry, Ron and Draco are quick to counter each strike. Draco even impresses by disarming two of the Death Eaters simultaneously. One very ugly Death Eater growls, lunging right at Hermione. Dobby is quick to act, using a spell which involves a few complicated hand motions to send the Death Eater flying across the room, hitting his head against the wall with a cracking thump.

“Come!” he exclaims.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all rush to grab onto a piece of the dirty shirt Dobby is wearing. Without even giving it the barest hint of a thought, Hermione grabs Draco’s hand firmly, barely in a nick of time, before they’re off. 

\---- 

“Blimey,” Harry mutters under his breath.

They’d just Apparated with Dobby to some remote-looking area in the woods somewhere.

“What the bloody hell,” Ron demands. 

He’s scowling in the general vicinity that Hermione is occupying, causing her to frown in confusion.

“Hermione,” Draco says, sounding panicked, clutching her hand tighter. 

And it’s only now that she realises that she’d grabbed his hand, and strung him along.

“Oh, uhm,” she hedges awkwardly, releasing his hand.

“What did you do, Hermione?” Draco demands. “Do you realise how foolish-”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione says desperately. “I wasn’t thinking. I just couldn’t leave you there.” 

“Can we be traced through you?” Harry asks, business-like. 

“I can be summoned,” Draco says bitterly. “Should I return, I would be forced to disclose... everything.” 

“There is no bloody way you’re going back,” Ron growls. “You can’t go back and give us away.” 

“I know I can’t,” Draco snaps. “And if I refuse to reveal your whereabouts, I’ll be tortured,” he sighs. “Or killed.”

“No,” Hermione says desperately. “You’ll stay. Please tell me you’ll stay. He needs to stay, right?” she looks frantically between Draco, Harry and Ron.

“Breathe, ‘Mione,” Harry sighs. 

“I _have to_ stay,” Draco says, voice small and carefully emotionless. 

\---- 

Draco tosses fitfully, unable to sleep. As if having to sleep in the same tent (magically enlarged, or not) as the Golden Trio isn’t bad enough, he can’t seem to shake the haunting past. 

_“Please, no,” four year old Draco pleads. “I want my mommy.”_

_“Your mommy isn’t home right now,” Bellatrix says in a faux sympathetic and gentle tone. “Aunty Bella has to watch you tonight.”_

Draco turns restlessly, eyes clenched tightly shut at the unwelcome recollections. His breathing is a little harsh, and he has trouble keeping it under control. 

_“One day,” Bellatrix assures him, “you’ll need to make women very happy.”_

_Draco whimpers, but doesn’t dare respond._

Draco gasps for air. His eyes are stinging, and he feels about ready to crawl out of his skin. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep quiet, so as to not accidentally wake any of his reluctant companions. 

_“How dare you disrespect your elders?” Belaltrix demands. “You ungrateful little brat!”_

_She slaps Draco so hard across his cheek, that he hits his head on the kitchen cabinet, crumbling into a little blond heap on the floor._

_“You don’t say no to your aunt,” she hisses, unbuttoning Draco’s trousers._

_Draco isn’t able to stop her._

Draco can’t take it anymore. He needs to get up and out of his bed. He heads to the tiny bathroom in the tent, voiding his bladder and splashing his face with cool water. He gives himself a stern talking to while he’s drying his face. 

He needs to keep it together. 

\----

Hermione tosses and turns. There is no way she’s ever going to be able to sleep. She’s shivering. It’s no longer from the cold; not since they’d left the manor. She doesn’t know who or what has possession of her body. What she _does_ know, is that she’s acutely aware of being alone. It’s ironic that she would feel so alone when she’d finally reunited with her friends, and she’s no longer isolated and confined to that freezing room, in that frigid manor. Contrary to these facts, she somehow still feels more alone than ever. 

Her tears fall freely, but she’s crying silently, curled in on herself, like she’s trying to hold what’s left of her together – hopelessly. 

The rest of the large tent is filled with the sounds of the rest of the occupants sleeping. Ron’s snoring is the loudest, but Harry is the restless shifter. She knows that their presence should be of great comfort to her, but it’s like it won’t register with her body. 

She still feels miserably alone. 

_Abandoned._

“Hermione?” a whispered voice startles her. 

Draco is kneeling by her bed. She can’t quite make out his features in the near-dark, but it’s unmistakably him. 

“You’re crying,” he murmurs, and there’s an edge of concern to his voice. “Are you okay?” 

“No,” Hermione chokes out, and suddenly she’s outright sobbing. 

“Shh,” Draco soothes, leaning forward, reaching out a hand to gently stroke her hair. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

Hermione is not even thinking. She grabs Draco by the shoulders, and tries to drag him forward towards her. He stumbles a bit, but grabs hold of the edge of the bed with both hands, regaining his balance. 

“Hermione, what-” he’s cut off by Hermione pressing her lips to his.

“Please,” she whimpers desperately, tears still falling. “Please.” 

She won’t even give him time to protest. She pulls him right on top of her, holding him close. Draco is still holding himself rigidly, still uncertain how to handle the situation. Hermione keeps clinging to him, refusing to relinquish her possessive hold on him. 

“Please, Draco,” she pleads, his first name still a bit foreign on her lips. 

“Hermione,” Draco says helplessly. “You’re not thinking clearly.” 

“Draco,” Hermione demands, getting desperate, “please just fuck me!” 

The profanity is really out of character for her, but she really needs to not feel so alone. To not feel so lost. 

“Are you absolutely sure?” Draco murmurs. 

“Yes,” Hermione breathes. “Please, Draco.” 

“Okay,” is Draco’s soft reply.

A knot seems to loosen in Hermione’s chest, and she no longer feels quite so trapped in her own hopeless agony. 

\----

Draco runs his fingers through Hermione’s hair, her head resting on his bare chest. 

“Tell me about these,” she murmurs, startling Draco (he’d thought she’d fallen asleep), running her finger delicately over a scar just below his collarbone. 

The scar is not one of those Potter had inflicted on him in their sixth year. 

“You don’t really want to know,” he grits out, voice tight and body stiff. 

He may be no better than Bellatrix right now, having been forced to take Hermione against her will, but he’ll never stoop so low as to cause her physical harm like this. 

“Was it Bellatrix?” Hermione asks carefully, stiffening in his arms, finger stilling where it’s still tracing his scar. 

“Yes,” Draco sighs, turning his head to kiss the top of her head. “It was a long time ago,” he whispers into her hair. 

Hermione snuggles a little into his embrace, and Draco has to fight back a flood of tears. He can’t take back what had already happened, but, by Merlin, he is going to do his damndest to take care of Hermione. In whichever way possible.

\---- 

“What the bloody hell is going on here?!”

Hermione shoots up, untangling from Draco in the process.

“Ron,” she says desperately, silently cursing herself for her actions in the middle of the night.

Their position is quite telling. At least they’d gotten re-dressed. Thank goodness for small mercies. 

“What’s going on?” Draco frowns, sitting up next to Hermione. 

“What are you doing sharing a fucking bed?” Ron demands, and his face is turning almost redder than his hair. 

Hermione can feel her heart leaping in her throat. It keeps playing out in her mind; the way she’d clung to Draco, begged desperately, dragged him into her bed with her... 

“I had a bad night,” she says in a small voice, fidgeting.

Breathing is suddenly becoming a bit harder to do. Draco must notice her discomfort, because he puts his arm around her. 

“So, Malfoy crawled into your bed with you?” Ron asks, voice quieter, but tone harsh. 

“I didn’t hurt her,” Draco says calmly, giving Hermione a comforting squeeze. “I’d never do that.” 

Hermione sees it in Ron’s eyes, the moment he realises that they’d slept together. The look on his face...

“Merlin,” Ron mutters, rubbing his hands over his face. “So the two of you...” he trails off awkwardly. 

“Ron,” Hermione sighs, feeling the clench in her heart.

She doesn’t know how to explain the situation, how to explain that she needs the comfort – that she’s sure Draco does too. She doubts this is something that can actually _be_ explained. 

“I swear, I’m looking out for Hermione,” Draco says sincerely.

Normally, Hermione would have taken offence at a man (wizard or muggle) claiming a position like that over her. She would have ranted incessantly about gender equality. The fact that Ron doesn’t comment on this, and lets it go, must mean that he gets it – to a certain extent, at least. 

“If you _ever_ do anything that she doesn’t want...” Ron lets the threat hang in the air. 

“You have my permission to kick my arse,” Draco gives Ron a small grin, which Hermione is very grateful to notice Ron actually returns. 

\----

“I think the last one is at Hogwarts,” Harry says. 

They should all be relieved that they might have a possible lead on the last horcrux, but no one is getting their hopes up too much. 

“We should go,” Ron says eagerly. 

There is a squirmy, uncomfortable feeling inside Hermione. Of course, she wants them to find the last bit of Voldemort, and ultimately cause his downfall. She just finds herself anxious at having to go back to Hogwarts. The thought of facing so many people at once is almost tied with the thought of facing the war which is sure to follow. 

“It’ll be fine,” Draco startles her a bit by stepping up behind her and whispering in her ear, but he immediately hugs her quickly from behind, which brings about an instant sense of comfort. 

They all realise at the same time that this will require a whole lot of planning, with special attention to detail, so that’s what they immediately start working on. 

Draco’s presence is definitely…complicated. On the one hand, having a Death Eater with them while they’re defeating Voldemort is awkward, to say the very least. On the other hand, having the blond around can prove to be quite valuable, as he’s able to play double agent for them, and provide them with vital tips and information. 

Though Ron and Harry are trying, Hermione can tell, they still don’t seem to fully trust the Slytherin. Hermione doesn’t know how to convince them, how to _explain_ that she’d somehow come to trust Draco herself. She’s not even entirely sure _why_ exactly she trusts him, given their history. She’s just very aware of the fact that the trust between Draco and herself is quite mutual, and that she desperately wants her friends to trust him too. 

\---- 

_“Why are you doing this to me?” Hermione cries, pleading desperately._

_There is blood flowing from her, but the source is undetermined._

_“I’m not doing anything,” Draco says desperately._

_The blood keeps flowing, and Hermione is getting increasingly paler beneath the flow of blood._

_“Please stop it,” Hermione begs, the words coming out as nothing more than a gasp._

_She’s fading._

_She’s dying, and Draco is helpless. He has no idea what to do, or what is even going on._

_It’s too late._

_He can’t do anything to help her._

_He’s failed._

\---- 

“Draco,” Hermione tries to wake Draco. “Draco, come on, it’s just a dream,” she says. “It’s just a nightmare.” 

Draco startles awake, but Hermione immediately starts soothing him. 

“Fuck,” Draco breathes, sinking back into the pillow.

Hermione notices his breathing is still a little harsh. She tentatively reaches out to touch him, smoothing the hair back from his face. 

“Was it bad?” she murmurs. 

Draco turns to hold Hermione’s face in his hands, and she notices he has tears in his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” Draco breathes. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. I never meant to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t,” Hermione assures him, placing a small kiss to his forehead. “You’ve been nothing but good to me.” 

Draco pulls her closer, dragging her into a desperate kiss. Hermione goes willingly, allowing Draco the small comfort. 

“I never want to hurt you,” Draco murmurs against her lips. 

\---- 

Hermione is awake long before everyone else, not that she actually slept much to begin with. She quietly makes her way outside, where the sun is only beginning to rise. She can _see_ the beauty in it, but she doesn’t really _feel_ the blissful, happy feeling that’s meant to accompany the scene. 

She’s sitting with her back against the tree, sighing, attempting to soak in as much calm as possible. 

“Hey,” Harry says quietly, startling her slightly.

“Hey,” she echoes. “I didn’t hear you coming.” 

“Sorry,” Harry says automatically, taking a seat next to her. “Did you wanna be alone out here?” he asks, almost like it’s an afterthought. 

Hermione thinks it over for a second, not really sure of the answer. 

“Not particularly,” she finally says, not elaborating. 

“Something on your mind?” Harry asks tentatively. 

Hermione releases a small chuckle, almost surprised out of her. 

“Everything,” she admits. 

“Yeah, I’m right there with you,” Harry sighs. 

Hermione is suddenly hit with a sense of guilt that she’s been so completely wrapped up in herself that she hasn’t even given much thought to what Harry must be going through as ‘The Boy Who Lived’. 

“You must be so scared,” she breathes. 

“Absolutely terrified,” Harry chuckles humourlessly. 

“You’re not alone, Harry,” Hermione offers, grabbing a hold of Harry’s hand and resting her head on his shoulder. 

For a moment, it’s almost like they can forget anything bad ever happened – like they’re not facing a war. 

“I know, ‘Mione,” Harry says, and she can hear the small smile in his voice. “I really appreciate you guys being with me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

She’s not entirely sure it’s the right time, but she feels that _one_ of them has to bring up the whole Draco thing, so she takes a deep breath, and hopes for the best. 

“Do you think I made a huge mistake bringing Draco along?” she whispers, biting her lip anxiously. 

The silence that follows doesn’t alleviate her nerves.

“I’ll be honest,” Harry eventually says, “I never even considered you ever looking at someone the way you look at him.” 

The words sound like they hurt to say, which makes them hurt to hear, especially coming from Harry, of all people. 

“I never meant-” she cuts off as she feels tears beginning to sting her eyes. 

“I know,” Harry squeezes her hand reassuringly. “He looks at you the same way, you know,” he adds gently. 

Hermione bites her lip, feeling the tears spilling at Harry’s words. It’s all still so _raw_ , everything that happened at the manor. 

“I need him,” she admits, uncertain of what Harry might do with that particular information. 

“I think he might actually need you too.” 

\---- 

Once in Hogsmeade, Aberforth Dumbledore reluctantly helps them enter Hogwarts. Hermione feels that some of the things he has to say about his late brother are a bit unfair, but she can’t help but feel a twinge of empathy for the older man.

His history isn’t really any of their business, though, despite how much he actually discloses about his family. In the end, he does help them, albeit with reluctance and warnings, which is the main thing, she supposes. 

Miraculously, he doesn’t have anything to say about Draco accompanying them, which Hermione knows they’re all eternally grateful for. Hermione especially, since she’s having a hard enough time dealing with her own inner turmoil; the loss of her parents through Obliviation, the traumatic events she’d had to endure at the manor, being on the run, hunting hidden pieces of Voldemort, her unusual new arrangement with Draco (being a very fierce former enemy)…

Heaving a heavy sigh, she closes her eyes, fighting hard to keep her fragile composure. 

_‘It’ll be okay,’_ she mentally repeats, like a mantra, steeling herself for what awaits them inside Hogwarts. 

It’s both _better_ and _worse_ than she expected. 

They enter Hogwarts right into the Room of Requirement, which is immediately buzzing with greetings and excited chatter from virtually every member of _Dumbledore’s Army_. They’re all excited to see them – especially Harry, of course. 

The moment they notice that Draco Malfoy is amongst the newcomers, though, a tense and awkward silence follows. 

Hermione feels the knot in her stomach tighten uncomfortably. Having to explain to Harry and Ron – having to convince them – had been hard enough. She’s not sure she’s physically capable of winning over the crowd of people in Malfoy’s favour. Not the way she’s feeling right now, at least. 

“What’s going on?” Ginny is the one to break the silence, expression so similar to Ron’s the moment he’d been hit with the bomb of circumstance, yet decidedly entirely different. 

“Malfoy has…” Harry starts, trailing off awkwardly, and Hermione cringes at the fact that he’s scrambling visibly for confidence – extremely out of character for Harry. “Draco-” he tries again, before the Slytherin cuts him off. 

“I intend to be valuable on this side,” the blond says smoothly, expression calm and open. 

“On _this_ side?” Seamus frowns, pointing at the floor he’s standing on, as if to emphasise his incredulity at the Slytherin and rumoured Death Eater joining the light side. 

“You’re joining the light side?” Dean clarifies, frown not quite as deep as Seamus’. 

“I have,” Draco replies, and Hermione notices nothing but sincerity and confidence. 

“Draco actually helped us escape imprisonment and torture,” Harry says, renewed edge of confidence present in his voice. “He’s been nothing but kind, generous and helpful.” 

A heavy silence follows Harry using Draco’s first name. 

“Not to mention, I have valuable information regarding the Dark Lord and his followers,” Draco adds.

“How do we know you’re not some double agent for them?” Lavender crosses her arms over her chest. 

“I trust him,” Hermione gathers the strength to say, taking Draco’s hand in demonstration.

“We all can,” Harry adds decisively, like that concludes the matter. 

Unsurprisingly, it does.

\---- 

Dobby, as it turns out, has been at Hogwarts ever since mysteriously Disapparating from the woods where he’d left them after escaping Malfoy Manor. He’s happy and overly helpful, eager to bring the entire crowd of people in the Room of Requirement food from the kitchens, and apparently bearing no emotional scars over sending Bellatrix’s blade flying into her chest. 

He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes. 

\---- 

“Merlin’s sweaty ballsack,” Severus Snape grits out, approaching Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco. “Please tell me my fucking eyes are deceiving me,” he scowls. 

Before anyone can respond, he ushers Hermione – who happens to be the closest to him – into an abandoned alcove in the hallway they currently occupy. The rest, naturally, are quick to follow.

“We need your help, Severus,” Draco says firmly. 

Snape releases Hermione from his hold pretty quickly, but she still immediately scrambles as far away from him as possible.

She shudders at still feeling his touch lingering on her skin, and is grateful that no one else tries to touch her.

“Why on earth did you all deem it safe to pitch up here _together_?” Snape demands. “The Dark Lord is bound to catch wind of this new development,” he adds. 

“That’s what we’re counting on, actually,” Harry chimes in. “I’m here to finish him off. We’ve found out the last horcrux is hidden in the castle. Once it’s destroyed, I’m ending him.” 

“Bloody hell,” Snape sighs. “He’s not alone,” he reminds them. “He brought quite a few of his trusted followers, so, for the love of Merlin, split up,” his eyes widen earnestly, at Draco. “Don’t be seen together! And I sincerely hope this is quick.” 

“Severus, can you catch me up, while they go destroy the horcrux?” 

“Are you sure you’re ready to play the role of a double agent, Draco?” Snape asks seriously. “Think of your parents.” 

“I’m sure,” Draco grits through his teeth, expression hard. 

Hermione grabs his hand and gives it a quick squeeze. This, thankfully, does not appear to be something Snape feels the need to comment on.

“Fine,” Snape sighs after eyeing his godson speculatively, evidently finding whatever he’s looking for in Draco’s expression. 

“Brilliant,” Harry sighs in relief. “Let’s go.” 

Hermione and Ron are quick to follow him, and they make a run for where the horcrux is hidden – if the visions Harry had is anything to go by. It’s a hidden place in a wall near the Ravenclaw common room, which they’re only fortunate enough to know about through years of using the Marauders’ Map – otherwise they’d never have been able to know where to find it, even _with_ the aid of Harry’s vision of Voldemort himself. Had it not been for the fact that the place was so well-hidden, one would have thought the last horcrux would have been hidden in the Room of Requirement. 

“So,” Ron mumbles. “This is a bloody diadem then.” 

Hermione rolls her eyes at his muttered remark. It’s such a typically Ron reaction. 

“Here,” Harry says, retrieving the sword of Gryffindor.

He wastes absolutely no time bashing the delicate diadem to pieces. He hisses in obvious agonizing pain, however, clutching his palm to his scar. 

“Are you alright?” Hermione asks, nervous at the prospect of Harry having another vision related to Voldemort – she’d never been comfortable with this particular connection Harry has to the dark wizard. 

“He’s pissed off,” Harry grits through clenched teeth. “He’s weak, now, though.” 

The fact that Voldemort is now this vulnerable should be a source of great relief for the trio, but a sense of impending doom still hangs thickly in the air. Hermione can actually feel her heart attempting to force its own passage through her insides to spill heavily out her mouth. 

“He’s in the forest,” Harry visibly swallows, expression set hard. 

“Let’s go,” Ron says, apparently ready to stumble right into this impending war.

Hermione feels her heart ripped clean in two at the look Harry gives them both. She knows exactly what he’s about to say, before the words even form on his tongue. 

“I need to go alone,” his words are only barely above a whispered breath. 

“You can’t,” Hermione protests feebly, uncaring that tears are spilling from her eyes. 

“I have to,” Harry argues. “You heard Snape; he didn’t come alone. I need to finish him off before the people I care about wind up injured or dead.” 

“Do you honestly think they’ll back off once their master has fallen, mate?” Ron asks reasonably. 

“Probably not,” Harry allows. “But we have to be prepared for their retaliation, at least.” 

\---- 

Hermione and Ron hurry to reunite with Draco and Snape, both of which look grim and uncomfortable. 

“We need to contact the Order,” Hermione insists. “We need their numbers, on our side, here.” 

“I will see to that immediately,” Snape assures. “Go gather the little club Potter’s started. They’ve been itching to fight.” 

Hermione isn’t entirely sure how to feel about the fact that Snape appears to be entirely clued up on everything regarding the DA “club”, as he refers to it, but she can’t very well be surprised. When it comes to double agents for the light side, the older Slytherin is undoubtedly a perfect example.

“Hey,” Draco says, stopping Hermione partway to their destination. “You doing okay?” he asks gently, hand resting lightly on Hermione’s shoulder, eyes boring intently into hers. 

“I’m not sure,” Hermione answers truthfully, ducking her head to avoid eye contact.

She feels so useless, worthless and pathetic. Not too long ago, she was always more than prepared to step in when a desperate situation required it. Now, after the time they’d been forced to spend in Malfoy Manor, she is reduced to this... mess. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Draco asks, prompting Hermione to lift her gaze back to meet his. 

She nods wordlessly, not trusting her voice, when she already feels the tears threatening to sting their way out of her exhausted body. 

“I’m bloody terrified,” Draco admits in very little over a whisper. 

For the first time, perhaps, Hermione truly thinks of what this whole war actually means for Draco. It clenches her heart painfully, and she’s suddenly overcome with a sense of guilt, accompanied by the overwhelming sense that she’d been entirely too self-involved lately, wrapped up in her own misery. 

“Draco,” she breathes, a few tears slipping past her eyelids. “I’m sorry,” she says, barely audible, leaning in impulsively to capture Draco’s lips in a soft kiss. 

Draco returns the kiss for a few moments, before pulling back slightly. 

“This is probably not really the time or place,” he chuckles apologetically against her lips.

Hermione feels herself flush in embarrassment, leaning forward to hide her flaming cheeks in Draco’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, lightly chuckling at herself, to spite the gravity of the situation. 

“Hey,” Draco says, nudging her back to regain eye contact. “I’m not,” he grins, and Hermione is surprised to notice his eyes sparkling. 

Draco leans in for a last quick kiss to back up his statement, smiling warmly at her when their lips part. Hermione feels something expand and clench not quite unpleasantly inside her. Draco is right, though. Under normal circumstances, Hermione is sure she’d be contemplating the seemingly ludicrous notion of actually falling in love in such short a time, especially under these dire circumstances, because that’s undoubtedly what this feels like. The reality, however, remains that the circumstances they find themselves in cannot be ignored. 

“Maybe this should be revisited after this bloody war,” Hermione suggests shyly, cheeks still warm. 

“Definitely,” Draco’s grin grows wider.

Hermione knows they need to rush to meet back up with the others; otherwise she might not be even remotely capable of restraining herself from flinging herself at the Slytherin, and never letting go. 

\----

Harry finds the exact location Voldemort is hiding surprisingly easily. He’s not alone, but with a select few of his most trusted followers. The rest are undoubtedly not far, awaiting their cues to tag in. 

Heart pounding, but anger bubbling just below the surface, Harry listens in on the group’s conversation – pretentious and melodramatic, which doesn’t quite come as much of a surprise to Harry. Voldemort has always had a flair for the dramatic, after all. 

Deciding he’d had quite enough of this, of anything regarding Voldemort, to be entirely honest, Harry springs into impulsive action. 

“Arrogant fucking prick,” he grits out, stepping right up to the group without hesitation. “Avada Kedavra.” 

The look of shock on Voldemort’s face sends a weird little thrill up Harry’s spine. He still has his wand aimed right at Voldemort, breathing harsh and scowl so deep, it’s seeping from his very soul. This is what everything has come to, and it’s over in the blink of an eye. Harry sets fire to the corpse, exploding the burning mass for good measure. 

The Death Eaters, who, unbelievably, had just been cowering in the corner this whole time, like the cowards Harry knew them to be, are apparently finally unfreezing. 

\----

Death Eaters come out of nowhere. They’d been warned, been expecting them, but... There are a fair bit more than Draco had anticipated. He can’t help noticing Aunt Bellatrix isn’t one of them, and a small part of him unclenches. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d dreaded being faced with her, until he realised that it wasn’t required, evidently. 

His parents are another matter, entirely. Lucius is here, proudly battling in the name of his Dark Lord; though, if you look close enough, you can recognise the man for the bloody coward he truly is. Draco doesn’t doubt that he wouldn’t hesitate to harm (even go as far as to _kill_ ) Draco – his only son – should it come to that. 

His mother, though... Narcissa keeps to the sidelines, regret and horror evident in her expression. She wants to escape. Draco hopes she does. 

The battle goes on around him, a messy gray blur. Draco focuses all his concentration on only hitting the dark side, which isn’t exactly well received. He stands his ground, though (barely). A way off he fleetingly catches sight of Hermione, and nearly loses what little focus he has. 

The young witch had certainly regained some of the old fire that he always noticed burns within her, fighting with a calculated grace. His heart races a bit at the quick sight, and he has to avert his gaze once again to regain his focus. He can ponder her beautiful and talented self later. 

It becomes clear that a few Death Eaters had in fact been missing from the battle, as they return with a levitating Potter, looking smug. At cursory glance, Potter appears dead. Draco’s, like most of the others present (light side, or dark), attention is drawn almost immediately to the desperate wail that the girl Weasley releases. She tries to run towards Potter, like she can somehow help him, but is held back by her father – which is when Draco notices that the Order members must have arrived, as he notices a few others as well. 

The battle resumes, and Draco steels himself. 

\---- 

The aurors appear, immensely aiding the light side, arresting those Death Eaters who’d survived the battle. Hermione isn’t as reassured as she should be that Lucius is amongst those. She fusses over Harry, along with Ginny and Mrs Weasley, but is pleased to notice when Draco gives Narcissa a parting embrace, and she manages to Disapparate (at least one positive aspect of the wards having been destroyed in the battle). 

Mrs Weasley departs to fuss over her other children, and Hermione decides to give Ginny and Harry a moment alone. 

“Should have seen that one coming,” Draco startles her as he suddenly steps up next to her, indicating towards Harry and Ginny. 

“I think I kind of did,” Hermione admits sheepishly, averting her gaze, feeling her cheeks heat up. 

“Oh,” Draco murmurs after a moment of heavy silence. “You hoped nothing would come of it,” he guesses – it’s not a question. 

“Draco,” Hermione says desperately, forcing herself to make eye contact. 

“Are you really in love with him?” Draco asks, direct and to the point.

Hermione bites her lip, contemplating the consequences. 

“No,” she admits, shame flooding all her senses. “I know it makes me sound even more selfish.”

“Hermione,” Draco says calmly, reaching out to take one of her hands in his. “You know someone was always going to want you, right? I mean,” he continues awkwardly, “you were never going to end up alone.” 

Hermione frowns a bit at his words, trying to make sense of them. 

“What do you-” she starts, but is cut off when Draco steps even closer. 

“I know I’ve been an, for lack of a better word, arsehole in all the time we’ve known each other,” he says, small grin tentatively spreading on his lips, mildly distracting. “I’ve gotten to know you, though, and see you with your friends,” he continues. “Hermione, you are caring, beautiful, popular, exceptionally smart...” he trails off, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. 

“Sure,” Hermione mutters, “the boys are all just lining up, as you can see,” she gestures around sarcastically with her free hand. 

“Would it be too bold of me to admit that I’m glad you don’t have a group of suitors lined up?” Draco grins, gray eyes sparkling. 

Hermione feels her blush deepen, biting her lip. She mentally scolds herself for reacting this way; she’d always scoffed at girls behaving this way when receiving attention from the opposite sex, considered them silly (and, admittedly, a little shallow). 

“Draco,” she heaves a small sigh, uncertain how to react. 

“If you want me to step back,” he says uncertainly, smile dimming from his gorgeous face. 

“No,” Hermione says too quickly. “I mean,” she bites her lip. “This may not be the best time, but,” she blushes, but forces herself to resume coyly meeting his eyes. “I think I want you to stick around.” 

“You think you do, huh?” Draco teases, eyes gleaming, and bright grin returning. 

“Yeah,” Hermione decides to reciprocate the teasing. “I don’t think I’d mind looking at your face too much,” she smirks. 

“Good to know,” Draco beams, leaning in to kiss her, heedless of any number of potential onlookers. “I think I might be able to get used to seeing your face,” he grins against her lips, causing her to giggle.

Hermione is actually surprised that she’s able to feel this... _light_ , considering what they’d just been through. The fact that the bloody war is over is finally hitting her in full, and she’s incapable of reigning in the hysterical giggles that are now simply bubbling from her, like they’re oozing from her very soul. 

“Sorry,” she giggles even harder, when Draco pulls back from her lips with a light chuckle of his own. “It’s just...over,” she breathes, attempting to recompose herself, only partially successful. 

Draco’s smile turns soft, and he gently cups her cheek in his hand. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, stroking his thumb lightly over said cheek. “Whatever shall we do now?”

“Let’s find out,” she murmurs, resting her head on his chest as she clings to him.


End file.
